<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Eight Hours and 54 Minutes by mskullgirl</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26706442">Eight Hours and 54 Minutes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mskullgirl/pseuds/mskullgirl'>mskullgirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Breakfast Club (1985)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Child Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Underage Substance Use</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:26:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,664</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26706442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mskullgirl/pseuds/mskullgirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As much as it later pained her to admit, Claire barely notices John Bender at first. John, on the other hand, noticed her right away. A lot can change in eight hours and 54 minutes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Bender/Claire Standish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Claire (7:06 am)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi guys! This is more or less a retelling of the original movie with some extra scenes thrown in and a whole lot of time spent analyzing the character's thought processes. Just a heads up; the POV will switch back and forth between John and Claire throughout this story. Just take a look at the chapter titles to figure out which one is which. I'm in the middle of writing a sequel to this story which takes place immediately after this one ends. Happy reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As much as it later pained her to admit, Claire barely notices John Bender at first. Even though he does everything possible to draw attention to himself, knocking things over, mouthing off to Vernon, and generally acting like he owns the place, it’s just background noise to her, just another burnout acting up. And then he opens his stupid mouth and says something about getting “the prom queen impregnated”. Claire whips around in her seat so fast she almost gives herself whiplash, locking eyes with him for the first time. His gaze is oddly intense like he’s looking right through her and that only serves to annoy her more. </p><p>“Why don’t you just shut up?” She says irritably. “Nobody here is interested.” He and Andrew Clark bicker for a bit after that, the same macho posturing Claire saw all the time at school. She doesn’t have the patience to sit through another eight hours of them sniping at each other and she tries to get Andrew to just ignore it.</p><p>“Sweets?” Again she turns, her brow furrowed. He’s looking back at her with that same intense gaze as before, a smug smile on his face.  </p><p>“You couldn’t ignore me if you tried.” Unfortunately, that turns out to be true. He spends the next few minutes being as annoying as possible with his stupid snide comments and his crude jokes.</p><p>“You know why guys like you knock everything?” She finally says, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of her voice. </p><p>“Oh, this will be stunning…”</p><p>“It’s ‘cause you’re afraid.” </p><p>“Oh god!” He says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You richies are so smart, that's exactly why I'm not heavy in activities!”</p><p>“You’re a big coward.” Claire realizes that she isn’t taking her own advice to just ignore him but she can’t help it, it was like he knows just what buttons to push to get under her skin. They argue for a while longer, he has the nerve to call her “cherry” and then he starts messing with the door. Moments later it falls shut with a slam.</p><p>She isn’t sure why she defends him, maybe it’s because Vernon’s an asshole, maybe it’s because she’s bored but either way she doesn’t rat him out. It ends up being a moot point, Bender is perfectly capable of antagonizing Vernon all on his own. Claire watches with a mixture of admiration and disbelief as he racks up detention after detention. He acts like it doesn’t bother him but she sees a worried look pass across his face and his shoulders get more and more tense as the punishments add up. She realizes that he doesn’t want to be doing this, not really, but he isn’t going to back down, his pride won’t let him.  </p><p>“Cut it out!” She finally yells, desperate to end the encounter before Bender gets himself suspended. He barely looks at her, still going toe to toe with Vernon. Finally, blessedly it comes to an end and Vernon retreats to his office/lair.</p><p>The hours crawl after that and after a thrilling hour spent staring into space and daydreaming Claire, along with the rest of the group, drifts off into sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. John (10:22 am)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>John has a problem, a redheaded, pouty-lipped problem and it’s annoying the shit out of him.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>By the time 10:00 o’clock rolls around John feels like jumping out of his skin. He has a problem, a redheaded, pouty-lipped problem and it’s annoying the shit out of him. Just his luck to get stuck in a room with Shermer High’s resident princess. He’d noticed her before, of course. It was hard not to when she and her little posse practically ran the school. John doesn’t know her name but he knows enough. She’s rich, popular, and attractive, exactly the kind of girl who would turn her nose up at him in the hallway. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s attracted to her. Of course he’s attracted to her; he’s a red blooded, deeply hormonal, teenage boy. It would be damn near impossible not to be attracted to her. Sporto and Brainiac certainly were.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annoyed at the thought, John starts ripping the pages out of a nearby book and tossing them in the air. Jockstrap looks at him from where he’s stretching with poorly concealed irritation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's real intelligent.” He says, voice heavy with sarcasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're right,” John replies with mock contrition as he continues to tear pages out of the book. “It's wrong to destroy literature.” Rip. “It’s such fun to read.” Rip. “And,” he glances down at the book in his lap, squinting at the page. “Molet really pumps my nads!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mol-yer.” Princess says, the name rolling effortlessly off her tongue. John looks at her sharply but there’s no trace of mockery on her face. She actually looks amused, smiling slyly up at him as she bites her perfect bottom lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s flirting.</span>
  </em>
  <span> John realizes suddenly, the thought stopping him in his tracks. He blinks at her in disbelief and she just keeps grinning at him. Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love his work.” Brainiac interjects from behind a nearby pillar. Annoyed, John throws the stack of ripped out pages at his head. He’s pissed now and he’s pissed that he’s pissed. What did he care if the dork ruined the moment? There was no moment to begin with because there was no way in hell little miss prom queen had been flirting with him now matter how much she bit her lip and batted her eyelashes. With a huff of frustration he sets the destroyed book aside and picks up a nearby card catalogue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Big deal.” John mutters as he starts pulling out cards and shoving them back at random. “Nothing to do when you're locked in a vacancy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speak for yourself.” Jockstrap dismisses with obvious disdain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think I'd speak for you?” John asks snidely. “I don't even know your language.” That ought to have been the end of it but Jockstrap just has to push it further. He turns to Princess and asks her if she’s grounded that night. She shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't know, my mom said I was but my dad told me to just blow her off.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nice try Sporto.</span>
  </em>
  <span> John thinks smugly as he continues to mess with the cards. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No action for you tonight. Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars. </span>
  </em>
  <span>As if reading his mind Jockstrap turns to face him, making obvious eye contact before turning back to Princess. John glares at the back of his head and starts shoving the cards back in place a little louder than necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Big party at Stubbies,” Jockstrap says knowingly. “Parents are in Europe. Should be pretty wild…”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shithead.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. You gonna go?” Princess gets a conflicted look on her face before shaking her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt it.” Jockstrap is obviously disappointed by that answer, much to John’s delight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How come?” He asks. Princess sighs heavily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well 'cause if I do what my mother tells me not to do, it's because my father says it's okay. There's like this whole big monster deal, it's endless and it's a total drag. It's like any minute...divorce…” She rolls her eyes and casually gestures with her hand like she doesn’t give a damn about the whole thing. John doesn’t buy it for a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who do you like better?” He asks, genuinely curious. He wouldn’t have expected richie prom queens like her to deal with normal shit like divorce but wonders never cease. Princess looks at him in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like your old man better than your mom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re both screwed.” She deadpans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I mean, if you had to choose between them.” John presses. She seems to really think about rather than just telling him to go to hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” She says at last, her eyes fixed on something far away. “I’d probably go live with my brother. I mean, I don't think either one of them gives a shit about me… it's like they use me just to get back at each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha!” John’s head snaps up at the unexpected outburst. Across the room Crazy blows her hair out of her face and smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh.</span>
  </em>
  <span> John thinks with amusement. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Guess she can talk after all. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jockstrap seems to take that as his cue to brush off Princesses concerns, saying she’s just feeling sorry for herself. And yeah, he kind of has a point but John doesn’t like his attitude.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sporto…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” John jumps down from his perch on top of the cabinet, eyes fixed on Jockstrap’s stupid face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You get along with your parents?” Something briefly passes across Jockstrap’s face, obviously the comment has hit a nerve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well if I say yes, I’m an idiot, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Truer words were never spoken.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're an idiot anyway.” John says, vaulting over the railing so he’s standing right in front of Jockstrap. He’s vaguely aware of the fact that Princess is grinning at him in amusement. “But if you say you get along with your parents well you're a liar too.” Having said his piece, John walks past the rest of them, hoping to pry a few more words out of Crazy. He suddenly feels hands on his back, roughly shoving him forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know something, man?” Jockstrap asks, glaring at him with determination. “If we weren't in school right now, I'd waste you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah as being on school grounds had ever stopped the jocks before.</span>
  </em>
  <span> John returns the glare, holding out his hand with the middle finger pointed at the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you hear this?” He asks. “You want me to turn it up?” He flips his hand over so he’s giving Jockstrap the bird. John hadn’t been planning on fighting him, it hadn’t seemed worth it but if he was gonna act like such a prick he might just have to. Luckily for Jockstrap, Brainiac chooses that moment to intervene, babbling something about how he doesn’t get along with his parents either. John throws out some obligatory insults, but his anger has fizzled out. Once again, Jockstrap tries to play the knight in shining armor, leaping to the dork’s defense. As if he treats brains like him any better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My condolences.” John mutters at Brainiac, who’s name is apparently Brian. He’s sick of this day, sick of the assholes, and more than anything he wants to kick back with a joint and heavy metal album. Unfortunately there are still hours to kill before he can do anything of the sort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name?” Princess asks suddenly, startling him out of his thoughts. The question surprises him, not because she doesn’t know his name but that she bothered to find out at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s yours?” John asks, avoiding the question but trying to to be obvious about it. Princess hesitates, looking as though she is going to push for an answer but in the end she decides to let it go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Claire.” He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, something high-class sounding and girly. Tiffany, maybe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ka-laire?” He asks, drawing out the name like it’s completely foreign to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Claire.” Princess (Claire) says irritably. “It’s a family name.” She’s pissed now, and damn if she doesn’t make pissed off look sexy. And what the hell, there isn’t anything else to do so John does what he does best, acts like an ass. He’s not even sure what he’s saying, just that with every word Princess clenches her jaw tighter and tighter and glares at him like she’s trying to burn him with her gaze. It’s pretty hilarious, especially when she daintily flips him off with a manicured finger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” He snarks at her with obvious delight. “Obscene finger gestures from such a pristine girl!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not that pristine!” She mutters resentfully. And oh, she just made it too easy. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Claire (10:40 am)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Claire knew it was a mistake the minute she said it. She can tell from the expression on his face that she walked right into a trap.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Claire knew it was a mistake the minute she said it. She can tell from the expression on his face that she walked right into a trap. Slowly, not breaking eye contact Bender leans over the desk, eyes locked on hers. Up close they look lighter, more honey colored than deep brown. She is struck by the surprising realization that he has nice eyes.</p><p>“Are you a virgin?” The question catches her off guard but she tries not to let the surprise show on her face. “I'll bet you a million dollars that you are.” He continues, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Let's end the suspense. Is it gonna be…” His voice drops to a low rasp. “A white weddin’?” </p><p>“Why don’t you just shut up?” Claire says but there’s no heat behind it. Bender is still looking at her with that intense expression and he’s so close that she can faintly smell the smoke that clings to his clothes.</p><p>“Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth?” She’s tempted for a moment to say yes, that she isn’t a complete prude. Granted, she had kissed a grand total of two boys at that point, one of which was Bobby Klein during an 8th grade game of spin the bottle. It’s none of his business so she bites her tongue.</p><p>“Have you ever been felt up?” Bender pushes. He clearly doesn’t plan on stopping soon, not when he’s so obviously getting under her skin. “Over the bra, under the blouse, shoes off...hoping to God your parents don't walk in?” Without consciously trying, she finds herself imagining the scenario. She can picture herself sitting in the den in the basement, the tv blaring in the background and a hand worming it’s way under her shirt. The thought fills her with the same anxiety she always feels when someone asks her about this kind of stuff. </p><p>“Do you want me to puke?” She whispers, her stomach churning from the nerves. Bender acts like he doesn’t even hear her.</p><p>“Over the panties,” He says, breaking eye contact for the first time and very obviously looking at her chest. “No bra, blouse unbuttoned, Calvin's in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?” Her skin prickles under his gaze and she can’t help but wonder whether he’s imagining it too, whether he wants to be the one doing those things to her. Claire expects the thought to fill her with disgust but it doesn’t. She wonders what he would be like in that situation, if his hands would feel soft or rough against her skin, if he would look at her with that same hungry expression on his face, whether he would try to take things further. In the insane scenario she’s imagining, she wonders if she would let him. </p><p>“Leave her alone!” Andy yells from across the room, breaking her out of her reverie. When Bender moves away, his attention now on a new target, she isn’t sure whether she is relieved or disappointed. Either way she can’t bring herself to look away from him, not even when he and Andy get into it, a fight that ends as quickly as it begins. And then Bender pulls out a knife.</p><p>Claire feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, watching how he turns around and stabs the blade into the hard wood of a nearby chair. The message is crystal clear; “don’t fuck with me or I will fuck you up.” </p><p><em> He’s dangerous. </em> She realizes with sudden horror. <em> This isn’t just some burner messing around. </em>Thankfully, things don’t escalate any further but Claire can’t shake the feeling of fear. She’s angry at herself now for even entertaining the thought that he had nice eyes, for wondering what it would feel like if he put his hands on her. </p><p>“Let’s end this right now.” Andy says angrily, glaring at Bender with a hateful expression. “You don't talk to her, you don't look at her and you don't even think about her! You understand me?” There’s a long pause during which Bender shifts awkwardly from side to side.</p><p>“I’m trying to help her.” He says at last, in a surprisingly genuine voice. Claire rolls her eyes, still angry about the knife incident. With a resolute expression on her face she turns to face the front of the room and firmly tells herself to banish all thoughts of Bender from her mind.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. John (11:35 am)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Claire,” John says as they wait for Jockstrap and Crazy Girl to return with their drinks. “You wanna see a picture of a guy with elephantitis of the nuts? It's pretty tasty.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>John’s staring at Claire again, and he can’t seem to make himself stop. She can be prissy and uptight but damn if she doesn’t intrigue him. So naturally, he tries to be as annoying as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Claire,” He says as they wait for Jockstrap and Crazy Girl to return with their drinks. “You wanna see a picture of a guy with elephantitis of the nuts? It's pretty tasty.” She rolls her eyes at him, just the effect he was going for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you think he rides a bike?” Claire glares at him but doesn’t respond. John is somewhat disappointed, she looks pretty hot when she’s telling him to fuck off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Claire?” He tries again. “Would you ever consider dating a guy like this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t you just leave me alone?” She snaps at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not likely, where was the fun in that?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean if he had a great personality and was a good dancer and had a cool car… Although you'd probably have to ride in the backseat 'cause his nuts would ride shotgun.” Claire rolls those big brown eyes of hers again and turns away from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what I wish I was doing?” She mumbles under her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Op, watch what you say,” John says gleefully. “Brian here is a cherry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A cherry?” Einstein says indignantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I was on a plane to France.” Claire continues, lost in her own little world. John wonders if that’s where her family is from. It would explain how she was able to pronounce that stupid author’s name correctly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a cherry.” Einstein continues. John bites back a laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah fucking right. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“When have you ever gotten laid?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve laid lots of times!” God, this dork is almost too easy to mess with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Name one.” Brainiac swallows, obviously caught in a lie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She lives in Canada.” He says with feigned nonchalance. “Met her at Niagara Falls. You wouldn't know her.” John has to give the guy some credit, his story is obvious bullshit but he’s sticking to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ever laid anyone around here?” He asks pointedly. Brainiac shushes him, nervously gesturing over at Claire who is still turned away from them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” John says with exaggerated understanding. “You and Claire did it!” The girl in question spins around when she hears her name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothin’, nothin’.” Brainiac says frantically, looking about two seconds away from shitting his pants out of sheer terror. He looks at John with an imploring expression. “Let's just drop it, we'll talk about it later.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, drop what, what're you talking about?” Claire presses.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry, Dweeb, you brought this on yourself.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Brian's trying to tell me that in addition to the number of girls in the Niagara Falls area, that presently you and he are riding the hobby horse.” Her expression is priceless and for once John isn’t the target of her rage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Little pig!” She snaps at Brian who looks like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No I'm not! I'm not!” Brainiac stutters, desperately trying to salvage the situation. “John said I was a cherry and I said I wasn't, that's it, that's all that was said!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then what were you motioning to Claire for?” John asks, not bothering to hide his glee. The girl in question continues to look unimpressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I don't appreciate this very much, Brian.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is lying!” Brainiac says desperately, pointing an accusing finger in John’s direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh you weren't motioning to Claire?” John asks with mock confusion. Brainiac looks pleadingly at Claire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know he’s lying, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you or were you not motioning to Claire?” John presses. He’s still annoyed at Brainiac for ruining his moment-that-wasn’t a moment earlier and he feels no qualms about taking revenge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Brainiac admits. “But it was only…” His shoulders slump in defeat. “It was only because I didn't want her to know that I was a virgin, okay?” John gives him an unimpressed stare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me for being a virgin, I'm sorry!” Brainiac snaps at him, embarrassment temporarily replaced with anger. Claire laughs but it doesn’t sound mean, just bewildered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn't you want me to know you were a virgin?” She asks, walking over to them and leaning against the table. This close, John can faintly smell her perfume, something light and floral that he shouldn’t find as appealing as he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because it's personal business, it's my personal, private business.” Brainiac says irritably, still giving John the stink eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well Brian, it doesn't sound like you're doing any business.” John tells him seriously. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That oughta teach the dweeb not to butt into other people’s conversations.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it's okay for a guy to be a virgin.” Both boys look at Claire with surprise. Just when John thinks he has her all figured out she’ll say something totally unexpected that has him second guessing everything he thought he knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do?” Brainiac asks, sounding absurdly hopeful. Instead of looking at him, Claire locks eyes with John. That look unsettles him and he gets the impression that she’s judging him more for not being a virgin than she’d judging Brainiac for being one. It wouldn’t have been the first time someone looked down on him for sleeping around. Hell, his old man had called him a man-whore on more than one occasion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breaking eye contact, Claire turns to Brian and nods, a small smile on her face. John tells himself that doesn’t bother him. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Claire (11:40 am)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Fuck you!”<br/>“No, Dad,” Bender’s pretend-self pushes, hand held up defensively. “What about you?”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>By the time Andy and the quiet girl get back with their drinks Claire is hungry enough to eat a horse. Apparent so is everyone else because they dig into their lunches without speaking a word. Well, most of them do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s in there?” Bender asks curiously, leaning over to watch as she takes her lunch out of a small shopping bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess.” Claire says with an eye roll. She notices that, unlike the rest of them, Bender isn’t eating. “Where’s your lunch?” He stares at her intensely, a small smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re wearing it.” Claire glares at him, unimpressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re nauseating.” As she begins setting up her sushi platter Bender reaches across the table and grabs a can of coke, tossing it over to crazy girl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?” Claire bites back a sigh. She had been looking forward to a half-hour of peace and quiet while she ate but clearly that wasn’t going to happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sushi.” She says shortly, giving Bender a skeptical look. He blinks at her, uncomprehending.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sushi?” He seems so genuinely puzzled that Claire can’t help but laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rice, uh, raw fish and seaweed.” She explains, picking up her chopsticks. If anything, her explanation seems to confuse him more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won't accept a guy’s tongue in your mouth and you're gonna eat that?” Bender asks incredulously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I eat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know…” He says skeptically. “Give it a try. Claire is more than happy to oblige but before she can take a bite she is distracted by Andy unloading what looks like the entire contents of his fridge onto the table. Claire counts three sandwiches, a family sized bag of chips, a bag of cookies, an apple, a banana, and an entire carton of milk. It’s sort of sickening actually. She realized that athletes burned a lot of calories but this was ridiculous. Out of the corner of Claire's eye she sees Bender watching the display with obvious disbelief. Her mind turns to his own missing lunch. Andy seems to realize he is being stared at and he looks up at them in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your problem?” He asks defensively. Claire just shakes her head and goes back to her sushi. A few moments later she hears a loud crunch from behind her and she turns to see Crazy Girl pressing Cap’n Crunch into her sandwich. She presses the two sides together and takes a big, crunchy bite. Claire’s empty stomach churns with revulsion and she slowly turns around again. As she eats she hears Bender get up and cross the room to where Brian’s sitting. He swaps his lunch bag for a can of coke and takes a seat beside him, hands laced together expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What're we having?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, it's your standard, regular lunch I guess…” Brian replies warily. Bender nods at him, reaches into the bag and pulls out a thermos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Milk?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soup.” Brian reaches out towards the bag only to have his hand slapped. Another item is drawn out of the bag, a small plastic box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s apple juice.” Brian explains helplessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can read.” Claire rolls her eyes at their antics, barely paying attention as Bender continues to give Brian a hard time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well Brian,” He says, once everything is spread out on the table. “This is a very nutritious lunch, all the food groups are represented. Did your mom marry Mr. Rogers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, no, Mr. Johnson…” Claire grins conspiratorially at Andy who smiles back. Poor Brian can be pretty funny sometimes. It’s too bad he never seems to do it on purpose. Bender nods in understanding, moving to stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here's my impression of life at big Bri's house…” He says theatrically, striding over to the space between the desks, shaking his hair back from his face as though getting into character.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Son,” Bender calls in a deep, paternal voice before pivoting in the other direction and miming dimples on his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah dad?” He continues in a high, childlike voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How's your day, pal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great Dad, how's yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Super,” Claire bites her lip to keep from laughing. It’s actually pretty funny, even if it’s mean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say son,” Bender continues in his fatherly voice. “How'd you like to go fishing this weekend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great Dad, but I've got homework to do!” He frowns dramatically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's alright son, you can do it on the boat!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gee!” Even Andy cracks a smile at that, although it fades as the improvised scene continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dear, isn't our son swell?” Bender continues, looking adoringly at the empty space to his left. He pivots again, the same adoring look still on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes Dear, isn't life swell?” He says, having adopted a high, maternal voice. He makes a big show of miming the two parents kissing before turning to face them and pretending to slug the mom character in the face. No one is smiling now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wasn’t that just John Bender to a tee? Claire thinks to herself. Just when he’d lulled you into a false sense of security with his jokes and his nicknames and his stupid honey-brown eyes he would turn around and do something genuinely cruel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Andy says, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “What about your family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who mine?” Bender asks with mock surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s real easy.” Again he stands and this time his whole body language changes. He slumps over, running a hand drunkenly down his chest, his face twisted in a sneer. With great effort, as though he’s fighting through a fog of alcohol, he points to an unknown figure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stupid, worthless, no good, God damned, freeloading, son of a bitch, retarded, bigmouth, know it all, asshole, jerk!” His voice is low and slurred, an over the top parody of drunkenness although there’s nothing funny about it. He pivots to the side, arms crossed over his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You forgot ugly, lazy and disrespectful.” Bender continues in a slightly higher voice. Abruptly his hand slams backwards, as though backhanding someone behind him. Claire involuntarily flinches, both at the words and what the action suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up bitch!” Bender says, back to the first voice now. “Go fix me a turkey pot pie!” He pivots again, his voice open and questioning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about you Dad?” He asks, this time in his regular voice. Acting as his father, he raises a threatening fist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Dad,” Bender’s pretend-self pushes, hand held up defensively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you!” The voice is louder now, more threatening. Claire watches in horror as the terrible scene unfolds, unable to tear her gaze away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Dad,” Bender continues, yelling now. “What about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you!” His imaginary father screams before his fist jerks forward, hard. As himself again, Bender jerks back with a cry of pain. He looks unnervingly calm about the whole thing, especially because Claire feels like she’s about to throw up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that for real?” Brian asks in a meek voice. Bender turns to stare at him, his jaw tightly clenched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna come over sometime?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's bullshit.” Andy says dismissively. “It's all part of your image, I don't believe a word of it.” Bender stares at him, an indecipherable expression on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t believe me?” He asks and for the first time since she’s met him Claire hears real hurt in his voice. Andy either doesn’t hear it or doesn’t care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” Bender’s voice breaks on the word, not that anyone would be stupid enough to point it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I stutter?” Slowly, eyes never moving from Andy’s face, Bender walks over to where the blonde is sitting and rolls up his right sleeve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you believe this?” He asks, his voice deathly quiet. When Claire cranes her neck to see she spots an angry looking circular scar in the middle of Bender’s forearm. She quickly looks away, heart pounding in her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's about the size of a cigar…” Bender continues tightly, his arm still shoved under Andy’s nose. “Do I stutter?” Andy’s eyes drop to the floor, gritting his teeth together guiltily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See this is what you get in my house when you spill paint in the garage.” Bender says, jerking his sleeve down again. He doesn’t look as angry as Claire would have expected and his usually expressive eyes are dull and lifeless. Instead of giving Andy an, in her opinion well-deserved, beating he backs away.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See I don't think that I need to sit here with you fuckin' dildos anymore.” He says, voice strained and shoulders tight with tension. Spinning on his heel, he heads towards the map table, rubbing a hand over his face. For a moment he paces as though unsure what to do. Then with a scream of pure rage he sweeps his arms across the maps table, knocking all the maps on the floor. Yelling and swearing he climbs on top of the table and then pulls himself up onto the second floor balcony. He turns his back on them, sitting down against the stairs so that his forehead is pressed against the wooden railing and his feet dangle in the air. Claire can see his back rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath but he otherwise remains still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t have said that.” She tells Andy with a disappointed shake of her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How would I know,” Andy snaps, voice thick with guilt. “I mean he lies about everything anyway.” For a minute Claire considers going after Bender but she quickly dismisses the idea. He clearly wants to be alone, allowing him that is the very least she can do. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Those two months of Saturday detentions may have been a blessing in disguise.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She thinks guiltily. The more time he spent at school the less time he would have to spend trapped in a house with a monster who stubbed out cigars on his bare skin.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. John (12:02 pm)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>John’s already shitty day just keeps getting shittier and shittier. God, does he want a joint.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>John’s already shitty day just keeps getting shittier and shittier. He’s pissed at Sporto for doubting him but he’s more pissed at himself for revealing all that shit to a group of virtual strangers. John never talks about his home life, not even to his closest friends so he truly has no idea what possessed him to do so today. He should have just lied when Sporto tried to call him out, played it all off as a big joke and gone about his day. He would much rather be thought of as a liar than as a pussy who couldn’t defend himself. So much for that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scar on his arm itches, it always does in the aftermath of an “episode”. John hates those episodes and he especially hates that the rest of the group had witnessed him having one. At least this had been a screaming-swearing episode as opposed to a curl-up-in-a-ball-crying episode, which would have been infinitely worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The longer he sits there, trying to force himself to calm down, the more the itch spreads. God, does he want a joint. Weed is one of the few things that helps when he feels like this and his mind drifts longingly to the bag he’d stashed in his locker. There were still hours to kill before he could leave and, hopefully, retrieve it without Vernon noticing. John doesn’t think he can make it that long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck it.” He mutters to himself, making his way down the stairs to the first floor. The rest of the group seems distracted enough that he figures he can sneak by them. No such luck. The second he sets foot on the ground floor they all turn to look at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” Princess asks, brow furrowed in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Locker.” John says shortly, walking towards the door and hoping that will be the end of the conversation. Again, no such luck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What for?” Brainiac pipes up from across the room. John grits his teeth and tries his best not to fly off the handle. He’s done plenty of that already and he’s tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None ya business dweebizoid.” Princess pushes her chair back and walks over to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m coming too.” She’s not gonna back down, John can tell by the determined set of her jaw. Following her lead, the other members of the group make their way over, looking at him expectantly. Ordinarily he’d argue but the clock is ticking and he really, really needs a smoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” He says shortly. “Just follow my lead.” Cautiously, he cracks open the library door just in time to see Vernon stomping off down the hall and muttering something under his breath. John carefully sneaks out into the hall, gesturing at the others to follow before making his way in the opposite direction of where Vernon went. He’s walking pretty fast but Princess still manages to catch up, keeping pace with him as he rounds the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know where Vernon went?” She asks with genuine curiosity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't.” She frowns in consideration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then, how do you know when he'll be back?” John smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t.” He turns to see her looking at him with something resembling admiration. “Being bad feels pretty good, huh?” Princess doesn’t dignify that with an answer, just huffs and continues forward. They get to his locker fairly quickly, all those hours spent roaming the halls were good for something after all. Bender opens the lower door and watches with disinterest as his homemade guillotine slices the toes off one of his gym shoes. Oh well, it’s not as though he goes to gym anyways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slob.” Sporto says disdainfully as John pops open the upper part of the locker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My maid's on vacation.” He finds what he’s looking for right away, pulling away layers of paper bags before finally reaching his prize. Brainiac sniffs the plastic baggie suspiciously as John slams the locker door closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drugs.” He says incredulously. John is honestly kind of impressed the dweeb can recognize grass by smell. He nods, stuffing the bag in the pocket of his pants. Beside him, Jockstrap looks livid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Screw that Bender… Put it back!” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not fucking likely. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His mission accomplished, John heads off down the hallway, Princess hot on his heels. Brainiac is still freaking out behind him, mumbling something about “marijuana” but John really couldn’t give less of a shit. He’s vaguely aware of Jockstrap catching up to him, still looking like he wants to give him a lecture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We'll cross through the lab, and then we'll double back.” John explains, more to delay the inevitable lecture than anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better be right, if Vernon cuts us off it's your fault, asshole!” John chooses not to dignify that with a response. He’s got his dope and Sporto could go fuck himself. Just when he thinks they might be in the clear he sees Vernon not 20 yards down the hall, his back to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Acting on instinct, he takes off down the hall, the rest of the group right behind him. John tries to sneak around Vernon but the bastard keeps popping up right in front of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, shit, double shit!</span>
  </em>
  <span> They tear down the stairs, John frantically scanning his surroundings in an attempt to get his bearings. Finally he figures out where they are, screeching to a stop in the middle of the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” He calls, trying to get his breathing under control. “Wait, hold it! Hold it! We have to go through the cafeteria!” And because nothing in John’s life can be easy, Sporto chooses that moment to play leader.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, the activities hall.” He argues. John is about two seconds from strangling the dumb jock but there are more pressing matters at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey man, you don't know what you're talking about!” He says irritably. They’re wasting time; Vernon could turn up any second now and then they’re all dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you don't know what you're talking about!” Basketcase makes a frantic squeaking noise, looking between the two of them with a panicked expression on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now we're through listening to you, we're going this way.” They take off running down the hallway, first Sporto, then Claire, then Big Bri. Basketcase looks back at him imploringly, shuffling backwards after the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit.” John mutters under his breath before hurrying after her down the hall.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Claire (12:30 pm)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Vernon’s gonna kill him.” Brian says as they run, looking back over his shoulder in the direction of the singing. <br/>“He knows that.” Claire says.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After running down another flight of stairs, the group find themselves in a hallway blocked by a metal gate. Claire's heart sinks with despair. Bender runs at the gate, shaking the bars in frustration as if that would change the situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit!” Andy exclaims from behind them, breathing hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great idea Jagoff!” Bender says snidely, lowering his head in defeat. Andy glares at him</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you!” Claire snaps irritably. “Why didn't you listen to John?” It’s the first time she’s addressed Bender by his first name, she realizes. He doesn’t seem to have noticed, too busy staring in frustration at the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re dead.” Brian says, looking like a prisoner awaiting execution. Beside her Claire hears Bender exhale, his hands still gripping the bars of the gate in front of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he says, something resigned in his expression. “Just me.” Before Claire can process what he had just said he stuffs his bag of drugs down Brian’s pants, hisses at them to go back to the library and takes off down the hallway, scream-singing at the top of his lungs. Claire and the others stand there, their mouths hanging open in shock as Bender turns the corner and disappears from sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s he doing?” Brian asks, looking upset that the day's events had led him here, trapped in the hallway with a bag of drugs down the front of his pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s giving us time to get away.” Andy mutters, looking impressed despite himself. “Crazy fucker.” He snaps out of it quickly, running off in what Claire hopes is the right direction. The rest of them are quick to follow, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the linoleum floors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vernon’s gonna kill him.” Brian says as they run, looking back over his shoulder in the direction of the singing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He knows that.” Claire says. Finally they find themselves in a familiar hallway and screech to a halt behind Andy as he throws open the library door. They all scramble back to their seats, hearts racing in their chests. Claire can still faintly hear Bender’s voice, fading more and more the further away from them he goes. It was an unbelievably stupid move on his part, she tries to tell herself. He was the reason they left in the first place, so what did she care if he got in trouble for it? But he hadn’t asked any of them to come with him either, they had all done that on their own. It was brave, she realized, him running off like that fully aware that he was going to suffer for it. As his voice finally trails off to nothing she feels dread begin to pool in the pit of her stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’ll be okay.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She tells herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What’s the worst Vernon can do? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She grimaces at the thought.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. John (12:35 pm)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>John’s had some stupid ideas in his time, sneaking change out of his old man’s pocket, buying what he’s thought dope from that shady guy downtown, and pulling that fucking fire alarm to name a few but this takes the cake.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>John’s had some stupid ideas in his time, sneaking change out of his old man’s pocket, buying what he’s thought dope from that shady guy downtown, and pulling that fucking fire alarm to name a few but this takes the cake. He races down the hallway, making as much noise as humanly possible and tearing posters off the wall as he goes. He weaves in and out of different hallways, trying to put as much distance between himself and the rest of the group. After a good five minutes of this, when it becomes apparent Vernon is not going to catch up to him, he makes his way over to the gymnasium, slips on a discarded sneaker and starts shooting hoops. Hell, if he’s getting in trouble anyways he may as well make the most of it. As it turns out, he doesn’t have to wait long. Just as he slam dunks the ball Vernon walks in looking more pissed than John has ever seen it, which is really saying something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bender!” He screams, spit flying from his lips. “Bender! What is this? What are you doing here, what is this?” John casually starts dribbling the ball, trying to buy as much time as possible. He fucking hopes Sporto figured out how to get back to the library by now, if he did all this for nothing he’s going to be pissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hi.” He says innocently, still dribbling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Out!” Vernon snaps, pointing at the door. “That's it Bender! Out, it's over!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don't you wanna hear my excuse?” John asks, spinning the ball on his finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm thinking of trying out for a scholarship.” Vernon walks towards him, a murderous look in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gimme the ball Bender.” He snarls, holding a hand out expectantly. “Gimme that ball!” John fakes the ball at him, enjoying the way the older man flinches. He does it one more time just to be an asshole before carefully rolling the ball towards Vernon, kicking off his stolen sneaker in the process. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Those assholes had better fucking appreciate this. </span>
  </em>
  <span>John thinks as Vernon marches him out of the room.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Claire (12:40 pm)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You think he's funny?” Vernon snarls “You think this is cute? You think he's bitchin', is that it?” Andy shrugs, as though he didn’t care one way or the other. “Lemme tell you something.” Vernon continues, gesturing over at Bender. “Look at him, he's bum.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After several minutes of tense silence the door of the library bangs open. Bender walks in with his hands on his head, like a prisoner of war being led to the firing squad. Vernon is right behind him, looking murderous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get your stuff, let's go!” The older man snaps, roughly shoving Bender forward. He turns to address the room at large as Bender makes his way to his seat. “Mr. Wiseguy here has taken it upon himself to go to the gymnasium. I'm sorry to inform you, you're going to be without his services for the rest of the day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“B-O-O H-O-O!” Bender sighs, slumping over in his seat. Vernon glares at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything's a big joke, huh Bender?” He asks angrily. “The false alarm you pulled, Friday, false alarms are really funny, aren't they?” Bender shrugs, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Claire had wondered about that; all she had heard was that some idiot had pulled the fire alarm, interrupting classes for a full half hour. None of the students had cared at the time but Vernon certainly seemed to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if your home, what if your family…” Vernon pauses, evidently rethinking his question. “What if your dope was on fire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Impossible sir.” Bender says with complete sincerity. “It’s in Johnson’s underwear.” Claire can’t decide whether he’s being brave or stupid, a line Bender seems to walk with ease. Poor Brian looks like he’s going to pass out, his eyes wide as dinner plates. Andy chuckles, probably at the absurdity of the whole situation. Vernon fixes him with an icy stare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think he's funny?” He snarls “You think this is cute? You think he's bitchin', is that it?” Andy shrugs, as though he didn’t care one way or the other. “Lemme tell you something.” Vernon continues, gesturing over at Bender. “Look at him, he's bum.” Bender stares unflinchingly back at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna see something funny?” Vernon asks, voice dripping with contempt. “You go visit John Bender in five years! You'll see how God damned funny he is!” Bender’s uncaring facade slips just for a moment and Claire’s thoughts turn to his earlier reenactment of his home life. Judging from that performance, his dad made a point of telling him he was stupid, worthless and good for nothing on a regular basis. Vernon, obviously picking up on the fact that he struck a nerve, strolls triumphantly over to Bender’s seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the matter John?” He asks, tauntingly, bending down so he’s looking Bender in the eye. “You gonna cry?” Vernon’s voice is cruel, as though he’s actively enjoying this exchange. Bender doesn’t answer, looking away from him. Claire can see a muscle twitching in his jaw like he’s grinding his teeth together to keep from yelling. She feels dread settle in the pit of her stomach. Everything about this interaction felt wrong, from the tone of Vernon’s voice to the way he had shoved Bender when they first walked in. He looks truly angry now, angry enough to do something serious and Bender seems to know it. Everything about him is tense, and he lashes out the second Vernon tries to grab his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey keep your fuckin' hands off me!” Bender snaps, knocking the older man’s hand away. Claire swallows, her mind on the cigar burn on his arm. “I expect better manners from you, Dick!” He continues, acting arrogant even as he’s being marched off to the proverbial firing squad. He shuffles towards the door, taking his sunglasses out of his pocket and laying them on in front of Andy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For better hallway vision.” He says, clapping Andy on the back with a strained smile. In typical Bender fashion, he knocks a bunch of stuff over on his way to the door, Vernon following close behind. The rest of them watch him go, unable to do anything to stop what’s happening. Out of the corner of her eye Claire sees Brian shake his head in despair.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. John (12:50 pm)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“That's the last time, Bender.” Vernon snarls, his teeth bared in anger. “That's the last time you ever make me look bad in front of those kids, do you hear me? I make $31,000 dollars a year and I have a home and I'm not about to throw it away on some punk like you.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“That's the last time, Bender.” Vernon snarls, his teeth bared in anger. “That's the last time you ever make me look bad in front of those kids, do you hear me? I make $31,000 dollars a year and I have a home and I'm not about to throw it away on some punk like you.” John doesn’t look at him, trying his best to just tune Vernon out until it’s over. After seventeen years his ability to distance himself from what’s happening has gotten pretty good.</p><p>“But someday, man, someday.” Vernon continues, his finger pointed at John in accusation. “When you're outta here and you've forgotten all about this place and they've forgotten all about you and you're wrapped up in your own pathetic life… I'm gonna be there.” John’s shoulders tense and he slowly turns his head to face the angry man in front of him. Vernon has a dangerous expression on his face, one John is all too familiar with. </p><p>“That's right.” The older man says smugly. “And I'm gonna kick the living shit out of you, man, I'm gonna knock your dick in the dirt!” The storage closet suddenly feels like it’s closing in and John involuntarily hunches in on himself, one knee hugged against his chest. There’s nowhere to run, the only exit is behind Vernon and John’s whole body feels frozen in place.</p><p>“Are you threatening me?” He asks, ashamed to hear his voice break in the middle of the question. Despite the fact that everything inside him is screaming that he’s in danger, he doesn’t truly believe Vernon will do it. Sure, he’s an asshole but he’s the vice principal. He wouldn’t hit a student, even a student as obnoxious as John. Right?  </p><p>“What're you gonna do about it?” Vernon asks, looking immensely pleased with himself. John looks away, his heart racing. “You think anybody's gonna believe you? You think anybody's gonna take your word over mine?” </p><p><em> He really means it </em> , John realizes with dawning horror. <em> You pushed him a step too far just like you always do and he’s gonna make you pay for it. </em>     </p><p>“I'm a man of respect around here.” Vernon sneers at him. “They love me around here, I'm a swell guy… you're a lying sack of shit! And everybody knows it.” John can barely hear him over the rush of blood in his ears. He’s back in the garage, half a can of paint pooled on the ground at his feet. His old man is standing over him, his eyes burning with rage and a cigar smoldering between his lips. </p><p>“Oh, you're a real tough guy” someone says from far away and John can’t tell whether it’s Vernon’s voice or his dad’s. He can’t focus when all he can smell is his own flesh burning, when all he can hear is his own terrified screams ringing in his ears.</p><p>“Come on, come on…” Vernon says, throwing his jacket off. John swallows down a scream, leaning further back into the cabinets behind him, trying desperately to put as much space between them as possible. As if that would make any difference, as if it ever did. “Get on your feet, pal! Let's find out how tough you are!”</p><p><em> “Get up and fight you worthless piece of shit!” </em> John hears his dad yell. He feels a kick land against his ribs, knocking the wind out of him as he gasps desperately for air. </p><p>“I wanna know right now, how tough you are!” Vernon demands. “Come on! I'll give you the first punch, let's go!”</p><p><em> “That all you got Johnny? Come on, fight like a man!” </em> </p><p>“Come on, right here, just take the first shot!” Vernon is so close to him now, their faces maybe a foot apart. Maybe it’s his imagination, but John can swear he smells alcohol on his breath.     </p><p>“Please, I'm begging you, take a shot!” Vernon continues, eyes closed. “Come on, just take one shot, that's all I need, just one swing.” John can’t move, his breath caught in his throat as he waits for the blow to come. He doesn’t have to wait long. A moment later Vernon’s fist is coming at him and he involuntarily flinches out of the way. But the hit never lands, Vernon just pulls his arm back, looking smug.</p><p>“That's what I thought.” He says with a knowing smirk. “You're a gutless turd.” Distantly John hears the door close, hears the key turn in the lock. It’s not the first time he’s been locked in a closet, not by a long shot. It shouldn’t bother him so much, not compared to the other shit he has to put up with. Yet somehow, he thinks he would have felt better if Vernon did hit him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Claire (1:08 pm)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Just when Claire thinks the day can’t get any weirder Bender loudly crashes through the library ceiling with a long, drawn out scream of “Oh shit!”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Just when Claire thinks the day can’t get any weirder Bender loudly crashes through the library ceiling with a long, drawn out scream of “Oh shit!” Moments later, seemingly unbothered by this turn of events, he walks down the stairs towards them, shaking bits of plaster out of his hair. Claire can only stare at him in disbelief, the rest of the group apparently having a similar reaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgot my pencil.” Bender says like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world, striding over to his previous seat. He looks surprisingly okay considering he just endured a fall through the ceiling and a serious tongue-lashing from Vernon at the very least. Claire is so absurdly happy to see him that she doesn’t think anything of shoving him under her desk when she hears Vernon approach. The other members of the group hurry to their seats and adopt their most innocent expressions just as the door flies open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God damnit!” Vernon fumes as he walks in. “What in God's name is going on in here?” Claire shrugs, doing her best to look genuinely puzzled and not like she’s hiding a fugitive under her desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that ruckus?” Vernon continues, looking around for the source of the noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, what ruckus?” Andy asks innocently, his eyes darting quickly under the desk where Bender is crouched. Vernon does not look amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just in my office and I heard a ruckus!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you describe the ruckus, sir?” Brian asks and it’s all Claire can do not to burst out laughing. How on earth has this become her life?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Watch your tongue young man, watch it!” Vernon snaps, pointing his finger accusingly. A sudden bang sounds from under the desk and thinking quickly, Andy bangs out a rhythm on the top of the desk. Bender, of course, has to make the situation worse. He bangs his fist twice on the bottom of the desk, which Quiet Girl tries to disguise by loudly dropping her feet to the ground. Vernon looks to be on the verge of an aneurysm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is this?” He demands, eyes roving over each of them with suspicion. “What, what is that, what is that noise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What noise?” Andy asks, one of his feet bouncing up and down out of nerves. Thankfully, Vernon can’t see it from where he’s standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really, sir.” Claire says, trying to take the focus off of Andy. “There wasn’t any noise-.” Her voice trails off into a squeal as she feels something press between her spread legs. She involuntarily clamps down on the intruding item, which she quickly realizes is Bender’s head, with her knees. Hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That asshole!</span>
  </em>
  <span> She gets some satisfaction from hearing him cry out in pain, although she does her best to cover the noise with a coughing fit. Thankfully, the others play along, coughing dramatically into their hands. It’s a good thing too, because Claire takes the opportunity to kick Bender a couple of times in the ribs, causing him to cry out again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That noise?” Claire asks, trying her best to keep from blushing. “Was that the noise you were talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it wasn't.” Vernon says, crossing his arms. “That was not the noise I was talking about. Now, I may not have caught you in the act this time, but you can bet I will.” From the back of the room Allison lets out a hysterical laugh. Vernon glares at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You make book on that missy!” He snaps before turning his attention to Claire. “And you! I will not be made a fool of!” With a flourish, he turns on his heel and stomps out of the room, a toilet seat covering sticking out of his pants. The door barely swings closed before Andy and Brian dissolve into fits of hysterical laughter. Claire, however, isn’t laughing, too intent on smacking Bender as he crawls out from under the desk. She gets in a couple of good hits before he straightens up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was an accident!” He says, completely unapologetic. Claire’s blood boils with rage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an asshole!” Bender looks at her for a moment, as though considering that statement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sue me.” He says at last, getting to his feet. Eyes still on her, he walks over to where Brian is sitting. He says something to him but Claire is still so mad she doesn’t hear it. It takes everything in her not to walk over and punch Bender right in his stupid, smug face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yo wastoid!” Andy yells, his voice cutting through her fog of anger. “You're not gonna blaze up in here!” As usual, Bender ignores him, walking towards the back of the library with his newly reclaimed bag of weed. Claire turns to watch as he sits down, pulling rolling paper and a pack of matches from his pockets and setting them down on a table. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d really doing this!</span>
  </em>
  <span> She thinks incredulously. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That idiot has no sense of self-preservation whatsoever! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Resolutely she turns back around, facing the front of the room. Her resolve lasts a grand total of two seconds before her curiosity gets the better of her. She’s never smoked weed before, never spent time with people who did, and part of her is dying to know what all the fuss is about. Claire glances over at Andy who, obviously aware of what she’s thinking, shakes his head. She hesitates for another few seconds before standing up and walking over to where Bender is sitting. His look of utter bewilderment is totally worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m still mad at you.” She huffs, sitting down next to him, just as Brian also walks over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough.” Bender says, with a shrug, his usual devil-may-care attitude back in full swing. “White’s a nice color on you, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the hell up and show me how to do this.” Perhaps realizing that more jokes would be unwise, Bender obliges, demonstrating how to properly pack and roll a joint with practiced ease. Brian and Andy, who eventually makes his way over too, get the hang of it quickly. Brian lights up immediately while Andy grabs a match and slinks off on his own. Claire is still struggling to roll her joint correctly, much to Bender’s apparent amusement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need help, Princess?” He asks after her third unsuccessful attempt. His own joint is already lit and smoldering and there’s a hazy, faraway look in his eyes. She glares at him but she has to admit she’s getting nowhere fast. With a huff of annoyance she pushes her misshapen attempt over to Bender, tucking one of her legs under his as she does so. God only knows why she does it, maybe the smoke is giving her a contact high.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the expert.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Bender passes over her finished joint he and Brian are well on their way to being stoned. Instead of lighting a match the normal way, Bender strikes the tip against the back of his top teeth, an obviously practiced gesture that Claire shouldn’t find as attractive as she does. She leans over and lets him light her up, exhaling the same way she had the few times she’d snuck cigarettes with her friends. This turns out to be a mistake and a few moments later she devolves into a coughing fit. Brian and Bender laugh at her but she’d nothing if not determined so she takes another drag, more slowly this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first Claire doesn’t feel much of anything but after a minute or so a warm, floaty feeling begins to spread through her. Brian is saying something but she can’t for the life of her make out the words. Whatever he says it makes Bender laugh, a wide, genuine smile on his face. Claire stares at him, transfixed. She’s never seen him smile like that and it’s so different from his usual smug smirk that Claire has to blink a few times to make sure it’s real. He’s more relaxed then she’s ever seen him and he looks softer somehow, more vulnerable. She has the sudden urge to snap a photo, to capture this version of John Bender and keep it to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know how popular I am?” She asks, struck by a sudden need to get his attention. He turns to her eyebrow raised in amusement, still smiling that soft smile. “I am so popular,” She continues, voice slightly slurred even to her own ears. “Everybody loves me so much, at this school.” Claire knows she isn’t making any sense but her mouth seems to be functioning independently of her brain. Probably the weed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poor baby.” Bender says but his voice is more teasing than anything else. He’s looking at her, a strange, intense expression on his face similar to the one he’d worn earlier when he asked her if she was a virgin. It’s gone just as quickly as it appears and it takes Claire a few moments to wade through the fog in her brain enough to understand what it means. She’s seen that look before, many times in fact but she had never expected to see it on John Bender’s face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He wants me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She realizes suddenly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not as a joke or a prank. He really wants me. And there’s no way in hell he’ll ever admit it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ordinarily that would freak her out but right now all she feels is a warm sense of contentment. She smiles, leans back and lets the high wash over her.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. John (2:00 pm)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Are all these your girlfriends?” She asks, looking at him with an indecipherable expression. <br/>"Some of them."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>At some point, once they’ve started to come down from their high, Claire wanders back towards her seat to “reapply her lipstick”. For lack of anything better to do, and because he doesn’t want to leave her side just yet, John follows her. As she’s putting on said lipstick he starts rummaging through her bag, pulling out random items and eyeing them curiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh for the love of… let me.” Claire says, reaching over and grabbing the purse. “I’ll never be able to find anything again if you keep doing that.” She methodically takes things out of the bag and lays them on the table in front of him. John recognizes a few of the things, lipstick, pencils, etc. but several of the items are a complete mystery to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I see your wallet?” She asks as he turns a compact over in his hands. “Since you’re rummaging through my bag like an animal.” He shrugs and tosses it over to her. There’s only a couple of dollars in there and John highly doubts a Richie like her is going to rob him. He finds a random brush amongst all the girly crap and, just to be an asshole, starts to brush his teeth with it. Claire looks as though she wants to say something, probably something to the effect of “that isn’t what that’s used for John!” but she seems to think better of it and goes back to flipping through his collection of photographs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are all these your girlfriends?” She asks, looking at him with an indecipherable expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some of them.” John replies evasively. He hasn’t forgotten her earlier comment about guys being virgins and he isn’t exactly chomping at the bit to share his, admittedly pretty extensive, sexual history with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about the others?” She presses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, some I consider my girlfriends and some… I just consider.” John says, grabbing hold of a little bottle and spritzing it in front of him. There was that floral scent again, more concentrated now than before. That little bottle was probably worth more than everything he was wearing put together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Consider what?” John bit back a sigh of annoyance. Dope sure made the prom queen chatty. Who would have guessed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whether or not, I wanna hang out with them.” He replies, not meeting her gaze. He supposes that when he puts it like that it sounds pretty shitty. Oh well, it’s not like she had much respect for him to lose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don't believe in just one guy, one girl?” John looks at her incredulously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” She says with forced nonchalance. “That's the way it should be.” What had he expected, really? A girl like her had probably grown up with stories of white knights rescuing damsels from towers and riding off into the sunset. If he’d thought she was a virgin before that last statement certainly sealed the deal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, not for me.” John says shortly. He doesn’t do relationships, rarely even sleeps with the same girl twice. Then again, he thinks with some bitterness, he didn’t exactly have girls lining up to make an honest man out of him. A quickie under the bleachers was one thing, dealing with his mountain of baggage was quite another.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” Princess asks, her brow slightly furrowed in confusion. There’s a lot of ways he could answer that; because my folks believed in “one guy, one girl” and look at how that turned out, or because I can’t even afford to bring lunch to school much less take a girl out on a date to name a few. If he was being really honest with himself, John would say it was because the thought of someone seeing him, really seeing him in all his battered, burnt out glory was pants-shittingly terrifying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How come you got so much shit in your purse?” He asked at last, blatantly ignoring her question. It looks defensive, he knows but he doesn’t know what else to do in this situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How come you got so many girlfriends?” Claire challenges. Of course she isn’t backing down. She can be just as stubborn as him when she wants to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked you first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno…” She says with a perplexed shrug. “I guess I never throw anything away.” John forces a smirk on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither do I.” Her big brown eyes widen in realization. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Claire (2:30 pm)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Have you ever done it?” Allison asks evilly. Claire feels her heart skip a beat.</p><p>“I don't even have a psychiatrist.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>By the time she feels like she can think clearly again they're all sitting in a circle on the floor, conversation meandering to a variety of random things. The current topic of conversation is what each of them would do for a million dollars. The whole experience feels oddly similar to a sleepover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would I do for a million bucks?” Andy ponders out loud. “Well, I guess I'd do as little as I had to.” Claire rolls her eyes. It’s such an Andy way of answering, she didn’t know what else she had expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's boring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, how'm I s'posed to answer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The idea is to like search your mind for the absolute limit. Like, uh,” she thinks about it for a minute before shooting him a mischievous smile. “Would you drive to school naked?” The absurdity of this hypothetical makes Andy snicker gleefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, uh… would I have to get out of the car?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the spring, or winter?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Now he’s just stalling.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn't matter,” She says in exasperation. “Spring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In front of the school or in back of the school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Either one.” He seems to seriously mull it over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” He said at last, a slightly guilty smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'd do that!” The whole group, Claire included, turns in the direction of the sudden outburst. Crazy girl, Allison, Claire corrects herself, stares back at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'll do anything sexual,” She continues. “I don't need a million dollars to do it either.” Claire gives her an incredulous look. The idea of this odd, quiet, girl tolerating human contact long enough to do the deed is totally ludicrous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're lying.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already have!” Allison says defensively. “I've done just about everything there is except a few things that are illegal.” She gives Claire a slightly manic smile. “I'm a nymphomaniac!” Claire still isn’t buying it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are your parents aware of this?” Brian asks, sounding just as scandalized as he had when Bender first pulled out his bag of marijuana. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And look how that turned out. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“The only person I told was my shrink.” Allison says, looking self-satisfied. Andy too is looking at her with disbelief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what'd he do when you told him?” He asks warily, as though he’s not sure he wants to hear the answer. Allison smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He nailed me.” Claire winces in obvious disgust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very nice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't think that from a legal standpoint what he did can be construed as rape since I paid him.” Allison continued casually, as though discussing the weather. Claire gapes at her in horror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He's an adult!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Allison says, clearly relishing the attention. “He's married too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any idea how completely gross that is?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, the first few times…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First few times?” Claire cries, completely beside herself now. “You mean he did it more than once?” Allison shrugs, unbothered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you crazy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously she's crazy if she's screwing her shrink…” Brian says reasonably. Bender, Claire notices, is being unusually silent. She glances over at him briefly to see him staring off into space and rubbing his arm. When she looks away again she sees Allison is looking at her, an unsettling expression on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever done it?” She asks evilly. Claire feels her heart skip a beat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't even have a psychiatrist.” She responds, somewhat snottily. Unfortunately for her, Allison seems to be on a roll. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever done it with a normal person?” She presses, dark eyes fixed on Claire’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, didn't we already cover this?” Claire asks uncomfortably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never answered the question.” Bender asks, breaking his self-imposed silence. He’s looking at Claire, an inscrutable expression on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Look, I'm not gonna discuss my private life with total strangers.” She snaps, although they certainly don’t seem like strangers, not anymore. In fact, she feels more connected to these four people than she ever has to anyone else. That doesn’t mean she wants to discuss her sex life (or lack there of) with them. She especially doesn’t want to talk about it with Bender, not after the way he taunted her about being a virgin earlier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's kind of a double-edged sword, isn't it?” Allison says. Claire blinks at her, uncomprehending.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you say you haven't you're a prude.” The dark-haired girl explains gleefully. “If you say you have you're a slut! It's a trap. You want to but you can't but when you do you wish you didn't, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wrong.” Claire says, lying through her teeth. For a basketcase, Allison is remarkably perceptive and that is seriously starting to piss Claire off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or, are you a tease?” Allison asks, pushing the issue even more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She's a tease.” Andy says unhelpfully. Claire glares at him. They knew each other before today, sure, but they had never been close, at least not close enough for him to come to that conclusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh why don't you just forget it?” She snaps angrily. Like Allison, Andy doesn’t back down. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe her crazy is rubbing off on him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Claire thinks nastily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're a tease and you know it!” He continues. “All girls are teases!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She's only a tease if what she does gets you hot.” Bender interjects, looking thoughtful. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do I?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Claire is tempted to ask him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do I get you hot, John? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She wonders if that would make him squirm. It would serve him right, after how flustered he had made her feel earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't do anything!” She says instead, glaring at him in annoyance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's why you're a tease.” Allison says, looking like the cat who got the canary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, lemme ask you a few questions.” Claire snaps, her embarrassment morphing into anger. Allison looks suddenly defensive, although she attempts to cover it up with a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I've already told you everything!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Claire says angrily. “Doesn't it bother you to sleep around without being in love? I mean don't you want any respect?” Bender looks like he wants to say something in response, probably something related to the fact that he too sleeps around without being in love, but Allison cuts him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't screw to get respect.” She says harshly. “That's the difference between you and me.” Claire huffs a bitter laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the only difference, I hope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Face it.” Bender says. “You're a tease.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I suppose that answers my question.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Claire thinks with annoyance. Who was he to judge her anyways when he was apparently screwing every girl who looked at him twice?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm not a tease!” She yells, frustration growing more and more with every passing second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure you are.” Bender says casually. “You said it yourself sex is a weapon, you use it to get respect.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I never said that, she twisted my words around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh then what do you use it for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What do you use it for, John?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Claire almost asks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Other than collecting mementos and boosting your ego.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't use it period!” To her horror she feels tears beginning to well up behind her eyes. She refuses to cry in front of them over something as stupid as this. Bender either doesn’t notice her distress or doesn’t care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, are you medically frigid?” He asks mockingly. “Or is it psychological?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn't mean it that way!” She says desperately. “You guys are putting words into my mouth!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well if you'd just answer the question…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don't you just answer the question?” Brian asks, the little traitor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be honest.” Andy says, putting in his two cents. Everyone starts talking at once, their voices blending together.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This really is like a sleepover.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Claire thinks, her heart sinking. She’s reminded uncomfortably of the countless conversations she’s had with her friends about this very thing. Most of them have had sex already and the ones who hadn’t were just waiting for the opportunity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, Claire, you’re such a prude!” Ashley King had exclaimed after Claire’s disastrous date with Ben Friedman. He had tried to stick his hand up her skirt right in the middle of the movie and Claire had dumped her soda on him and promptly stormed out. The experience had completed turned her off of sex, something her friends couldn’t seem to understand. They couldn’t have cared less that Ben was a handsy, entitled asshole. All they cared about was the fact that he drove a Masaradi and played for the school football team. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group is still bombarding her with demands to answer the question and something in Claire snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” She screams, angry tears in her eyes. “I never did it!” They all fall silent after that, taking it in. Claire glares at Bender, just daring him to comment. He looks awfully self-satisfied but at least he doesn’t say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never did it either.” Allison says softly. Claire whirls around to face her, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. She at least has the decency to look sheepish. “I'm not a nymphomaniac,” She explains with a tentative smile. “I'm a compulsive liar.” Claire stares at her for a second in shock before the full implications of what just happened hits her. Allison had played her, had riled her up enough that she had admitted to her, to all of them, that she was a virgin. Her blood absolutely boils with rage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are such a bitch!” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. John (2:47 pm)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Coming down from a high was always hard. Slowly the pleasant, unbothered feeling began to fade away and you were left to actually deal with the shit you got high to avoid.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Coming down from a high was always hard. Slowly the pleasant, unbothered feeling began to fade away and you were left to actually deal with the shit you got high to avoid. John had started the day feeling drained and on edge and the feeling had only increased as time wore on. The little kumbaya heart-to-heart they were having wasn’t helping either. All this emotional crap was starting to get to him, especially the shit Sporto had said about his dad. He’d meant it when he said Sporto Senior and his old man would get along like a house on fire. Maybe they’d even start a club for piece-of-shit parents who royally fucked up their kids. Hell, from what they’d told him Brainiac and Basketcase’s parents could join up too. Claire though… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's like me, you know, with my grades.” Brainiac says, pulling John out of his thoughts. “Like, when I, when I step outside myself kinda, and when I, when I look in at myself you know? And I see me and I don't like what I see, I really don't.” He looks absolutely miserable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What's wrong with you?” Claire asks with concern. “Why don't you like yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“'Cause I'm stupid.” John almost laughs out loud at that. Dweebizoid is a lot of things but he isn’t stupid. Before can can call bullshit on that idea, the nerd starts to explain how he’s failing shop because he couldn’t get a fucking lamp to turn on. Apparently that had been a big enough mistake to earn him an F, something he had never experienced in his life. John can’t relate; he collects F’s like they're going out of style but for someone as tightly wound as Brainiac getting an F probably felt like the end of the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “I thought I was playing it real smart, you know.” The dork continues miserably. 'Cause I thought, I'll take shop, it'll be such an easy way to maintain my grade point average.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why'd you think it'd be easy?” John has to ask, feeling slightly offended. Sure, he got good grades in shop, it’s one of the very few courses where he excels, but he has to work for those A’s. Not that a dork like Brian would understand what that was like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen some of the dopes that take shop?” Brainiac says incredulously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I take shop!” John snaps at him. “You must be a fuckin' idiot!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm a fuckin' idiot because I can't make a lamp?” Brian asks, looking pissed off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you're a genius because you can't make a lamp.” John says sarcastically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you know about Trigonometry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could care less about Trigonometry.” Brian looks at him as though he’s looking at a particularly stupid child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bender, did you know without Trigonometry there'd be no engineering?” The fact that he is no longer being addressed by his first name is not lost on John. He tells himself it doesn’t bother him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Without lamps, there'd be no light!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay so neither one of you is any better than the other one.” Claire says diplomatically. And isn’t that the world’s biggest fucking joke?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can write with my toes!” Basketcase interjects. They all look at her blankly. “I can also eat, brush my teeth…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With your feet?” Claire asks with a delighted laugh. It’s a nice sound, as painful as it is for John to admit that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...play Heart &amp; Soul on the piano.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can make spaghetti!” Brainiac adds, lamp-related angst temporarily forgotten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can you do?” Claire asks, turning to look at Sporto. He shrugs, an embarrassed smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can...uh...tape all your buns together.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanna see what Claire can do.” John says, fixing her with a challenging look. He’s annoyed at her, suddenly, for reasons he can’t quite articulate. Maybe it’s because she still looks so pristine and untouchable while the rest of them are sitting here spilling their guts out. The statement seems to take her by surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can't do anything.” John just waves her off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, everybody can do something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There's one thing I can do,” She says hesitantly before shaking her head in embarrassment. “No, forget it, it's way too embarrassing.” Well now John really wants to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ever seen Wild Kingdom?” He asks. “I mean that guy's been doing that show for thirty years.” Claire seems to consider this, her brow furrowed in thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” She says at last. “But you have to swear to God you won't laugh.” John sighs and crosses himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can't believe I'm actually doing this…” Claire mutters to herself, taking a tube of lipstick out of her bag and opening it. John watches in disbelief as she sticks it down the front of her shirt and bows her head down over her tits. A few moments later she lifts her head again, lipstick now perfectly applied. The rest of the group claps, impressed but all John can focus on is that coy smile on her face coated with expensive pink wax. He claps too but it’s slow and sarcastic and he feels anger bubbling up inside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was great, Claire.” He says, his voice harsher than he had originally intended. She looks down in embarrassment, wiping the lipstick off with the back of her hand. It leaves her lips looking even fuller and softer than before and that only makes John angrier. “My image of you is totally blown.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're a shit!” Basketcase hisses, her eye alight with anger. “Don't do that to her. You swore to God you wouldn't laugh!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I laughing?” John asks, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. What does he care? The rest of them can blow smoke up her ass the way everybody at this fucking school does but damned if he is gonna do the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fucking prick!” Sporto snaps, and what do you know, he’s pissed off at John too. How new and different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you care what I think, anyway?” John demands, all the rage and hurt he’s kept bottled up over the course of the day, hell over the course of his whole fucking life, spilling out of him. “I don't even count, right? I could disappear forever and it wouldn't make any difference. I may as well not even exist at this school, remember?” The words seem to hit home and Sporto bows his head in what looks like guilt. Good. John hopes he feels as shitty for saying it as John felt hearing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you,” He says, turning to the pristine princess herself. “Don't like me anyway!” Of course she doesn’t like him, there was no conceivable universe where someone like her would like a fuckup like him and he was a fucking idiot for ever thinking she could. The way she’s looking at him now, with a combination of hatred and disgust only confirms that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I have just as many feelings as you do and it hurts just as much when somebody steps all over them!” She says, her voice wavering slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, you're so pathetic!” He snarls at her, pure contempt in his voice. “Don't you ever… ever compare yourself to me! Okay? You got everything, and I got shit!” How dare she act as though she understood? She’d never had to worry about being able to eat or whether or not the heat was going to be shut off in the middle of fucking winter. She’d never been smacked around for spilling a can of paint, for dropping a plate, for just being in the fucking way. It’s not her fault, some part of him knows that, but he’s on a roll now with no signs of stopping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking Rapunzel, right?” He continues angrily. “School would probably fucking shut down if you didn't show up! ‘Queenie isn't here!’” She’s looking at him with a betrayed expression on her face, her brown eyes brimming with tears and he doesn’t ever care. If anything he presses harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I like those earrings Claire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up…” She whispers, her voice choked and quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are those real diamonds, Claire?” He says her name like it’s a swear, hard and biting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet they are. Did you work for the money for those earrings?”             </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Shut your mouth!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or did your daddy buy them for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up!” She screams, looking more furious and hurt than John has ever seen her. But John isn’t through with her, not by a longshot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet he bought those for you!” He continues hotly. “I bet those were a Christmas gift! Right? You know what I got for Christmas this year? It was a banner fuckin' year at the old Bender family! I got a carton of cigarettes. The old man grabbed me and said ‘Hey! Smoke up Johnny!’” John remembers that day vividly, remembers his disbelief at being gifted the very thing that had so often been used to hurt him and how much that thought had fucking destroyed him. And the worst part, the absolute worst part of the whole thing was that as shitty and tone deaf as that present had been John couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. Because some traitorous, long buried part of him happy, was fucking overjoyed, that his old man had not only remembered what day it was but had actually bothered to get him a fucking gift. Not knowing what else to do, he’d shoved the carton in his locker where it remained even now, three months later. And every time John opened up the door and saw that carton sitting there it hit him like a punch in the gut. So Princess Claire could take her tears, and her diamonds, and her coffee-colored eyes and she could go straight to hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so go home'n cry to your daddy, don't cry here, okay?” He says at last, his anger finally fading from an inferno to a dull roar. For a moment they sit in silence, Claire wiping away her tears, John doing his best not to watch her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My God, are we gonna be like our parents?” Sporto finally asks, a faraway, horrified expression on his face. John feels his heart drop into his stomach. For a split second he sees a future where years of drinking and living rough have turned him into a bitter shell of his former self. He sees himself slouched in an armchair, a bottle of Jack in one hand and a lit cigar in the other, living out the rest of his pathetic existence in a haze of alcohol and rage. The thought is so repulsive, so horrifying that it makes him want to puke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not me,” Claire says firmly, turning to look at John. There are still tears running down her cheeks but she looks resolute. “Ever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I did that. </span>
  </em>
  <span>John thinks to himself with horror.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I made her fucking cry. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He looks at her, taking in her tear stained face and feels like the biggest piece of shit in existence, like the worthless bum that everyone from Vernon to his own dad said he was destined to become. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s unavoidable,” Basketcase says softly, her own eyes wet with tears. “It just happens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happens?” The dark haired girl smiles a sad, bitter little smile</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you grow up, your heart dies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who cares?” John says dismissively, unable to look at her. He wants to be somewhere, anywhere other than this room with these people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I care.” Basketcase responds and something in her voice makes John’s heart fucking break. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Claire (3:03 pm)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Um, I was just thinking,” Brian says, breaking the tense silence. “I mean, I know it's kind of a weird time, but I was just wondering, um, what is gonna happen to us on Monday? "</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Um, I was just thinking,” Brian says, breaking the tense silence. “I mean, I know it's kind of a weird time, but I was just wondering, um, what is gonna happen to us on Monday?  When we're all together again?” Shit, Claire hadn’t even considered that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean I consider you guys my friends.” Brian continues. “I'm not wrong, am I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Andy says but he doesn’t meet his eyes. Brian considers that for a moment, his mouth set in a thin line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, so on Monday, what happens?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we still friends, you mean?” Claire asks, her voice still rough from crying. “If we're friends now, that is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” She thinks about it, really thinks about it but no matter how she slices it she still comes to the same, awful conclusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want the truth?” She asks in a small voice. Brian looks at her steadily as if he is trying to read her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I want the truth.” Claire gives him a small, watery smile and shakes her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, do you mean all of us or just John?” Allison asks, a sardonic smile on her face. Claire can’t even look at Bender, knowing that if she does she’ll just start crying again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With all of you.” She says dejectedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's a real nice attitude, Claire!” Andy chides her, as if he wasn’t thinking the exact same thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, be honest, Andy!” She snaps, feeling impossibly drained. “If Brian came walking up to you in the hall on Monday, what would you do? I mean picture this, you're there with all the sports. I know exactly what you'd do, you'd say hi to him and when he left you'd cut him all up so your friends wouldn't think you really liked him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way!” Andy mumbles but he’s lying. Of course he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“'Kay, what if I came up to you?” Allison interjects, sounding genuinely curious. Claire shakes her head sadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same exact thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You,” Bender yells, breaking out of his uncharacteristic silence. “Are a bitch!” He’s angry at her, really angry and Claire hates that his opinion matters enough to her that she cares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” She snaps back just as angrily. “'Cause I'm telling the truth, that makes me a bitch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” He says, glaring at her furiously. “'Cause you know how shitty that is to do to someone! And you don't got the balls to stand up to your friends and tell 'em that you're gonna like who you wanna like!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, what about you, you hypocrite!” She challenges. “Why don't you take Allison to one of your heavy metal vomit parties? Or take Brian out to the parking lot at lunch to get high?  What about Andy for that matter, what about me?” She sounds slightly desperate now even to her own ears. “What would your friends say if we were walking down the hall together. They'd laugh their asses off and you'd probably tell them you were doing it with me so they'd forgive you for being seen with me.” That thought hurt her more than she would have liked to admit because a small, shameful part of Claire wants John Bender to like her. She’s mature enough to admit that to herself. She wants him to kiss her and hold her hand and share his rare, real smiles with her. But that is a stupid, childish fantasy. Even if he did like her that way, which judging by his earlier tirade seemed unlikely, he didn’t believe in one guy one girl. At the end of the day she’d be just another picture in his wallet.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don't you ever talk about my friends!” Bender says through grit teeth, each word landing like a punch in the face. “You don't know any of my friends, you don't look at any of my friends and you certainly wouldn't condescend to speak to any of my friends so you just stick to the things you know, shopping, nail polish, your poor, rich, drunk mother in the Carribean!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up!” Claire screams at him, reaching out her leg and kicking him as hard as she can. She’s crying again and she can’t tell if it’s from anger, sadness, or some combination of the two but John just has to twist the knife more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And as far as being concerned about what's gonna happen when you and I walk down the hallways at school, you can forget it! 'Cause it's never gonna happen! Just bury your head in the sand and wait for your fuckin' prom!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate you!” Claire says and in that moment she truly does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Bender asks nastily. “Good!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through her anger, and frustration Claire feels something tugging at the edges of her mind, something important that she was forgetting. Looking at Bender, with his tightly crossed arms, and tense shoulders, she suddenly remembers something he had told Andy earlier in the day. It had been right after his little “are you a virgin?” performance, when Andy told him not to talk to Claire, look at her or even think about her. For a moment Bender had looked genuinely conflicted before simply saying “I’m trying to help her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That thought sticks with Claire as Brain explains his feelings of hopelessness, how the only option he could see involved bringing a gun to school. She’s still turning it over in her head when the tension finally breaks and they all start dancing. She watches John Bender closely the whole time, those five words echoing in her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying to help her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claire realizes, as she watches him crawl into the heating duct on his way back to his closet, that in his own messed up way, Bender had been attempting to do just that. Help. He’d seen her, seen all of them for what they were from the very beginning. He saw how deeply, painfully controlled they were and proceeded to do everything possible to break them out of their routines, make them take risks, and push them to question themselves in a way they never had to before. Because at the end of the day, Bender cared about them, probably more than he would have liked to admit. Why else would he have taken the fall for them with Vernon?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem, Claire realizes, is that he had no idea how to express the fact that he cares. And really, how could he when the two people who were supposed to love him unconditionally, his own parents, regularly belittled, insulted, and straight-up tortured him? Growing up John, because he wasn’t just a last name to her anymore, must have equated that cruelty with love and now that was all he knew. And if his fucked up brand of love pushed everyone away, well that was just par for the course. In his mind that was all he deserved.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not this time. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Claire thinks, with a determination so strong it takes her by surprise. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You can lash out as much as you want but you aren’t fooling me, not anymore. I see you, John Bender, and I’m not going anywhere. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. John (3:46 pm)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Why’d you do that?” He has to ask, voice a hoarse whisper. Claire just smiles at him, big brown eyes filled with warmth.</p><p>“‘Cause I knew you wouldn’t.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>By the time John hoists himself back into the heating duct and starts making his way back to the closet he is well and truly done with the day. He fucked up, just like he always did and he’d be lucky if any of them ever acknowledge his presence again. Especially Claire. God he’d been an asshole to her. As usual, John took every good thing that came into his life and proceeded to ruin it through his own idiocy. That was just the way things were for him, the way they always had been and the way they always would be. But that didn’t make the thought hurt any less. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing on earth John was expecting as he sat there in the closet feeling sorry for himself was for the door to swing open and Claire Standish to walk in. Yet that’s exactly what happens. For a moment he can only stare at her, unconvinced that what he’s seeing is real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You lost?” He asks at last, still trying to process what was happening. Claire just smiles at him and deliberately shuts the door behind her. John is well and truly dumbfounded but he does his best not to let it show. Never one to back down from a challenge, he walks over to where she is standing, leaning one arm on the wall behind her. This close he can count every freckle on her nose, can smell her dizzying floral perfume. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” He asks teasingly, doing his best to ignore the way his heart is pounding in his chest. She doesn’t answer him, just bites her luscious bottom lip, a determined look in her eyes. Before John can do or say anything else she closes her eyes and presses a kiss to the hollow where his neck meets his shoulder. Her mouth lingers there for a moment, her lips soft against his skin and John honestly thinks he might be having a psychotic break. When at last she pulls away, he stares at her in disbelief, eyes wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’d you do that?” He has to ask, voice a hoarse whisper. Claire just smiles at him, big brown eyes filled with warmth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Cause I knew you wouldn’t.” John can only nod in response. She was certainly right about that; up until about 30 seconds ago John was convinced that Claire hated him. God knows, he’d given her plenty of reasons to. And he had been fine with that, kind of. Okay, so he’d been fucking devestated but he’d accepted the reality of the situation. He’d developed a stupid crush, she hated him, and that was that. He never would have guessed they would end up here, not in a million years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know how you said before?” John asks, trying desperately to fill the suddenly charged silence. “How your parents used you to get back at each other?” Claire nods, indicating she’s listening although her gaze is fixed on his mouth. John can’t allow himself to think too hard about that. “Wouldn't I be outstanding in that capacity?” It’s a half-formed idea but John realizes it might actually work. Claire gets to get back at her asshole parents and he gets to have her in whatever capacity she would let him. It isn’t what he wants, not really, but it is so much more than he ever expected to receive that he will happily go along with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you really disgusted about what I did with my lipstick?” Claire asks, looking at him with a teasing expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truth?” She nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truth.” John smirks and nods his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Claire’s answering smile could have lit up the whole, shitty town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walk out of the building together, the five of them, and John couldn’t have been more thrilled. He can’t keep the dopey, love-struck smile off of his face as he cheerfully tells Carl he’ll see him next Saturday. Two straight months of detention suddenly don’t seem so terrible, not when he’s walking side by side with Claire goddamned Standish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them hang back from the rest of the group, walking slowly down the front steps in an attempt to delay the inevitable. All too soon they are standing in front of Claire’s father’s car. Wordlessly, Claire takes out one of her diamond earrings and places it in his gloved palm. Her manicured hands close over his own briefly before pulling away and looking him in the eye. John could drown in those eyes, so warm and accepting despite everything that had happened between them. It takes all the courage he has to lean forward, slowly so that she can pull away if she wants, and kiss her. It only lasts a second but she doesn’t smack him or turn away. Amazingly enough, she kisses him back. Then, just as quickly as it began it’s over and she slides past him into the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John stands there like an idiot as she drives away, his mouth hanging open. Eyes still on the retreating car, he reaches up and puts the earring, the fucking diamond earring in his ear. In a daze, he looks back at the school. It looks exactly the same as it did this morning, which John almost finds surprising. How can everything look the same when something so fundamental has changed? Over the course of the past eight hours Claire Standish saw John, saw all of the darkest, ugliest parts of him and she hadn’t turned and run. Instead she’d sought him out, kissed him even given him one of her insanely expensive earrings. She looked at him like he was worth something, like he mattered. John had never mattered before, not to his parents, not to his teachers, not to the world. But somehow, amazingly, he mattered to Claire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he walks across the football field, heart still racing in his chest, John doesn’t think about his empty stomach, or his two months of upcoming detention, or even the beating he’s sure to get once he gets home. None of that matters anymore, not when he’s wearing Claire’s diamond in his ear. Feeling more content than he has ever felt in his life, he lifts his fist and punches the air in triumph. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>